


the shadow of greed

by darthpumpkinspice



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, conflicted obi-wan, takes place over span of years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 12:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10412355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthpumpkinspice/pseuds/darthpumpkinspice
Summary: Attachment leads to jealousy, and Obi-Wan Kenobi begins to realize that his growing love for Padme Amidala may be the most dangerous thing for both of them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I've always been slightly obsessed with the idea that Obi-Wan/Padme might have had an affair and/or been in love. They just seemed like a much better match then Anakin and Padme. But when I actually decided to write it, things kinda took a bit of a darker tone then I expected. Anyway, hope you enjoy, and if you like review! I'd love to hear your thoughts!!

When Obi-Wan sees her again, for the first time in years, his thoughts tinged with wrongness.

 _She looks like a woman_ he thinks, and is abruptly ashamed. Beside him, his padawan flares white-hot in the Force, with a pulsing desire that lights up the room. Obi-Wan reminds himself to chide Anakin at a later point on the merits of self-control. And with a brief glance into Padme Amidala’s kohl-rimmed gaze, he buries his own desires, and ignores the slow heat that unfurls as Padme’s full lips curve into a dazzling smile. Perhaps both of them could learn from Master Yoda’s lessons on attachments- _Attachment leads to jealousy, the shadow of greed that is. Let go of everything you fear to lose_.

Later that evening, when he and Anakin save her life from a bounty hunter, he finds it difficult to drag his eyes away from her supple form, clad in a sheer nightgown. The image of pushing the gown away to explore the rest of her body rises to his mind, and he fights to keep his thoughts under strict control. From the bed, a breathless, terrified Padme seems to calm ever-so-slightly under his gaze. Through the Force, he senses something that might be yearning build between her hips. His thoughts escape his control, and run wild with fantasies that _should not, cannot_ be considered.

The droid still lingering outside offers a sufficient escape, and Obi-Wan launches himself out a window.

 

* * *

 

The first time they meet alone, the clone wars have begun and Padme Amidala is now a married woman. While her wedding to Skywalker was a secret, the relationship that has blossomed between her and the young Jedi was easily apparent to everyone, especially Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Padme has invited Obi-Wan to discuss with her the Jedi’s strategic plans for the scattered skirmishes that have cropped up across the outer rim. She takes him into her private, senatorial chambers and pours him a cup of tea imported from the southern regions of Naboo. He talks politics with her as the tea cools, sipping on it carefully. Obi-Wan admits it is very good, although he tends to prefer caf himself, the more bitter, the better.

Padme has already finished her cup, and as he settles his down, their eyes meet. Something sparks in the depths of her dark eyes, and Obi-Wan cannot quite bring himself to look away.

“Did you like the tea?” Padme asks, her voice strangely soft. Obi-Wan becomes fixated on how her mouth forms the words, how each syllable seems to be carefully constructed by her lips.

He realizes she is waiting for him to reply. “I did, thank you.”

There is a long silence. Obi-Wan has long forgotten what they were originally discussing, and talks of far-off conflicts in distant star systems no longer interest him. There is a tension in the air, and the Force directs him to the source. He stretches out his senses to Padme, and beneath the composed, practiced neutrality of her politician mask, he feels baser urges stir.

She reaches across the table to touch his hand, and it is if an electric current races across his skin. His heartbeat quickens, and there is a warm tightness in his stomach that is distinctly lust. In that moment, with her hair falling in soft curls around her bare shoulders, Obi-Wan forgets that Padme is now a senator, and no longer the monarch of a world. She looks like a queen.

He tells her this, and feels her desire grow. Silently, she squeezes his hand and pulls him with her into the bedroom. They undress each other slowly, without exchanging a single word, and the hungry look in her eyes tells him Padme has been dreaming of this moment as much as he has. When she is finally naked, he pulls her into his arms, kissing her as he touches her cool skin, her full breasts, and runs his hands up the smoothness of her inner thighs.

This is not the first time he has been with a woman- though an avowed pacifist, Satine Kryze’s bloodline was still that of warriors. Her body had been hard and strong, and their encounters had been filled with youthful passion and carelessness. Padme was soft and gentle, and while there is a quiet strength behind her precise movements, being with her is nothing like the sloppy infatuation Obi-Wan had experienced with Satine.

He settles her against the bed, slipping two fingers into the wet heat between her legs. She moans and pulls down his head for a kiss, pushing her tongue between his lips. Obi-Wan works to coax an orgasm from her, and after she finishes she sucks his fingers clean. At her request, he spreads her legs apart and prepares to enter her.

Before he can, his curiosity gets the better of him. “Are you and Anakin…?”

“We are married,” Padme admits reluctantly.   

Obi-Wan tries, but in that instant he cannot bring himself to care. He pushes inside of Padme, and he does not think anything has ever felt quite as good as she does around him.    

          

* * *

 

Obi-Wan receives the invitation to visit Padme’s penthouse from a cordial senatorial protocol droid. On the surface the message is innocuous, and almost distant in its politeness. Nobody would ever second-guess the nature of it, suspect its true purpose. Obi-Wan maintains an image of being the consummate Jedi, removed from attachments and devoted exclusively to the Order and the Republic. It is not entirely a lie, Obi-Wan is by all measures an excellent Jedi, strong in the light and rarely tempted away from it. The Order and the Republic are first in his heart.

 _First_ in his heart, but not alone in his heart.

So, Obi-Wan graciously accepts the droids invitation, and his kindly smile gives nothing away of the thrill of lust beginning to race through his veins. 

Later that evening, when he arrives, Padme greets him wearing a long black dress with a stiff collar that reaches to brush against her chin. She is the picture of formal, reserved dignity. They are simply old friends, about to sip on Alderaanian tea and chat about politics. As the door slides open and Padme escorts him inside, Obi-Wan detects the faintest glimmer of mischief in her eyes. Her full lips quirk ever-so-slightly into a smile.

This time, he tries to actually pay attention to his surroundings, and reflects that her penthouse is almost as beautiful as the occupant, lavishly decorated in art and furniture that would not be out of place in the royal palace on Theed. Prominently featured on the wall is a large painting of a lush Naboo forest against a sunset background, and Obi-Wan drinks in the myriad of colors the artist liberally used to craft the masterpiece.

A cool, graceful hand brushes against his shoulder and Obi-Wan turns around to see that Padme has shed her prim garments to reveal a gold silk dress underneath. And then the painting has lost all appeal, he only has eyes for her. The fabric is tight and clings to every curve and slope of her figure, and Obi-Wan does not dare move or breathe as his eyes rake down her body. His throat tightens, and abruptly he moves forward to claim her mouth in a hard kiss.

Her hands grab at his hair as she moans wantonly into the kiss and Obi-Wan decides he cannot wait until they are in the bedroom. He pushes her against the wall, perilously close to the painting, and when Padme hisses out that she wants him, _needs_ him inside of her, he looses all remaining vestiges of composure. He flips her around and yanks up her dress, grabbing at her long hair as he pushes himself into her.

They do not make love this time, they fuck roughly, with Padme urging him _harder, faster, please…_ He grabs at her hair, yanking back her head to suck on her neck and he deliriously wonders what the council would think if they could see him now, the perfect Jedi rutting savagely into the senator from Naboo like some wild animal. He wonders what Anakin would think, and that thought is strangely intoxicating, imagining if the chosen one could see his wife begging hoarsely for his master’s cock- and in this moment that thought pushes him over the edge, and Obi-Wan spills himself into Padme’s body.

They do end up going to her bedroom after all, and they lie down together, exchanging soft kisses as if to balance out the roughness of before. Obi-Wan gazes down at Padme’s face, still flushed and shimmery with a faint coating of sweat from their exertions, and feels some alien emotion knot into his gut at the thought that she is Anakin’s wife. It takes him a while to recognize it as jealousy. This realization makes him uneasy, even as he smiles and kisses her fingertips. Jealousy is an easy path to the dark side, it feeds uglier emotions like resentment and hatred. This is why Jedi do not form attachments or fall in love, because love is too often entangled with more dangerous passions and emotions. A Jedi should be devoid of passion, empty of jealousy, free from the temptation of lust. Obi-Wan promises himself he will meditate on this later, and purge himself of the jealousy that now gnaws inside him with sharp teeth. But in this moment, the thought of his old apprentice kissing Padme, getting to call her his wife, makes Obi-Wan feel vaguely nauseas. He thinks _Anakin does not deserve her_. He wonders if the chosen one can taste his former master on his wife’s lips, and a part of Obi-Wan hopes he can.    

Unaware of his inner turmoil, Padme begins to speak. “Do you ever think, Obi-Wan, that you and I…” She drifts off, and there is a pregnant pause as the question dangles unfinished in the air.

Obi-Wan steels himself and extinguishes the stirrings of jealousy as he says, “you and I could never have a future together, Padme. You are married to Anakin, and I am as good as married to the Order.” And, it is true. Unlike Anakin, who harbors fantasies of leaving the Order, Obi-Wan cannot fathom a life without the Jedi.

Padme’s face falls a little. “I know,” she says. “And I love Anakin. But I love you too, Obi-Wan. When I am with Anakin it feels like I am sucked into his orbit, that he’s the brightest star in the galaxy and I’m being engulfed by him. It’s exhilarating, but terrifying. I feel I as if am losing myself to him.” She kisses Obi-Wan on the lips. “But with you,” she murmurs, “the universe seems to halt altogether. In your arms, a sense of peace settles over me.”

Obi-Wan does not reply. He too has felt a sense of steady comfort in the presence of Padme, as if the immense shadow of the dark side in the Force clears enough to let in the light. But to admit this would push their relationship from the tumultuous point it is already in to that of utter chaos. And chaos is not the Jedi way.

Instead, he reaches out to sweep away a strand of hair that has fallen into her eyes. His fingers trail down, and he brushes a thumb against her lips. He kisses her as if to steal all the unspoken, dangerous words from her mouth. But Padme cannot be silenced so easily.

“Nothing in the world has ever felt as right, as when you are inside of me,” she whispers. And despite his resolve, there is a part of him that is undone by this.     

 

* * *

 

Her hands fist into the heavy velvet fabric of her dress, the knuckles visibly whitening. Her gaze seems to be everywhere except Obi-Wan as she speaks. “Sometimes, I feel I do not know my own husband.” She pauses, skin around her brow crinkling into a troubled frown.

“Tell me,” Obi-Wan urges. He reaches out a hand to her face, fingers stroking down the slope of her jaw. Padme leans into the touch with a low murmur, dark eyes drifting closed before opening and finally locking with his own.

“Sometimes I am scared of him,” she admits. “Anakin frightens me.”

Obi-Wan assures her she has nothing to be afraid of, tells her that Anakin loves her and would only ever do what is in her best interests and the best interests of the Republic. He tells her this until he himself becomes convinced it is the truth. He does not express his own dark doubts and fears. He does not even think them. If he was being honest, Obi-Wan would tell Padme that he was afraid too, that he had seen the seeds of the dark side take hold and fester inside of his old apprentice. He would tell her that the war had only made Anakin more dangerous, more arrogant, more ruthless, and that he had seen Anakin’s gaze grow steadily colder over the years until Obi-Wan had begun to wonder if it was Anakin at all looking back at him through those eyes.

But Obi-Wan and Padme’s relationship has never been one that welcomed honesty. Now is not the exception to that.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan kneels down before Padme, hands wrapping around silk-clad hips. He breaths in the familiar scent of honeysuckle and Nabooian amber as he rests the side of his head against her swollen stomach. The question rises unbidden in his mind, that forbidden, deadly _what-if_ …

_Is it mine?_

Wordlessly, his fingers tightening around Padme’s waist, Obi-Wan reaches out with the Force to gently prod at her unborn child. His suspicions are unfounded, he asks and the Force answers with a resounding _no_. Anakin will be a father, not him. He does not know whether the small sigh that escapes his lips is relief or disappointment. His stomach clenches, and he works to banish the pang of regret stirring within him as he abruptly realizes that Padme will never carry his child inside of her, never start a life with anyone but the chosen one…

His hands fall away from her sides, and perhaps sensing his distress, Padme softly places a hand upon his head. She strokes at his hair without saying a word, and when his gaze lifts to meet hers, she offers a sad smile. She is luminous, glowing with pregnancy, and Obi-Wan takes her hand and kisses it. Neither of them speak, though there are so many words he wants to say.

 _I love you, Padme_.

He wishes he could tell her, but it is never uttered. He swallows down the words, and the declaration dies in the back of his throat, unvoiced.

_Let go of everything you fear to lose._

      


End file.
